


Rumors only grow (into Truth)

by Terrific_Lunacy



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton is George Washington's Biological Son, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Revolutionary War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 13:03:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8891839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terrific_Lunacy/pseuds/Terrific_Lunacy
Summary: Washington had heard the rumors of course. Vicious whispers from bitter men, jealous of the clear preference the general showed for a penniless orphan. He had never given the accusation a second thought. Until a lost letter from Nevis finds its way to the desk of his most capable aide. How many coincidences can they explain away while ignoring the most obvious answer?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve seen stories where Hamilton is Washington’s son but usually Hamilton is still a child or it is set in modern times or one of them already knew.  
> I thought it would be interesting to imagine how they would deal with it if they were confronted with the knowledge at the same time, during the revolution ~~as the emotionally constipated adults that they were.~~

 

 

The day had been long and exhausting. Hours of planning and debating with his generals, arguing with congress, begging for supplies from locals, deciding their next moves, listening to complaints. The fate of their infant nation and all lives in it resting seemingly on his shoulders. Sometimes it was hard. Sometimes it was too much.

In the evening, under the last light of day, Washington indulged in a stroll to clear his head. Solitude, silence, fresh air. It was balm to his soul, despite the dribbling rain.

When he eventually had to head back to his tent he was greeted by a familiar sight.

Hamilton, buried in stacks of papers, scribbling faster than most men could think in the flickering candlelight. Exactly where Washington had left him.

A pang of guilt hit him, to have allowed himself time to relax when his aide hardly seemed to take time off to sleep or eat. More than anything however, Washington was filled with pride at Hamilton’s relentlessness. The young man’s work ethic alone kept a great part of their army inspired.

He took off his coat and shook the droplets of rain from it. The sound of the fabric alerted his focused aide to his presence, and Hamilton’s head snapped up.

“Your Excellency sir, how was your walk?”

He put the quill down in what Washington assumed must have been the first time in hours and stood up.

“Very calming,” Washington replied and gave the overworked man a meaningful look. “You should try it sometimes, Colonel.”

Hamilton nodded distractedly, the advice obviously flying over his head. He was frustrating like that.

“I have several letters that require your signature, sir. If we hurry we might still be able to dispatch them today.”

Washington sighed internally, though no sound escaped him. The last thing he wanted was to appear put-upon in front of his hardest working staff member.

“Of course.”

He sat down on the chair previously occupied by Hamilton and grabbed for the quill. He had long since stopped bothering to read what Hamilton wrote. The signing alone of the enormous amount of correspondences they sent out daily already took up more time than he could spare.

His hand started cramping halfway through, but he ignored it, slowly making his way through the stacks. Hamilton was standing impatiently at his side, sorting and sealing the letters properly as soon as Washington finished with them.

When he finally made it to the last sheet of paper, he leaned back and massaged his hand, while Hamilton finished sorting the letters and called for another aide with instructions on how to dispatch them.

Washington inclined his head towards a small stack of papers still remaining at the edge of the desk. “And what about these?”

Hamilton for a moment seemed oddly stricken, but composed himself quickly. “My apologies, your Excellency. I’ve been meaning to throw them out this morning.”

He hastily grabbed for the papers, but it was too late. The general had already picked up a sheet.

“Ah Nevis!” Washington exclaimed, genuinely surprised to see a correspondence addressed to him from so far away. “Why, I was there once, decades ago.”

“Y-you were?” Hamilton stuttered uncharacteristically.

“Yes. But what type of letter could I have possibly received from there after so long?”

With his typical briskness, Hamilton gathered up the letter, including the sheet in Washington’s hand. “Nothing relevant, I assure you.”

Washington could see the colonel was trying to appear nonchalant, but as usual for the young man, his face betrayed his emotions and the general became suspicious.

“It was addressed to me was it not? I think I will be the judge of that.”

“You have charged me to handle your correspondences, sir, precisely so your time would not be wasted on this.”

Washington held out his hand expectantly. “I would like to read my letter, son.”

“Don’t call me son,” Hamilton snapped and Washington’s eyes narrowed.

Realizing his disrespect, Hamilton made an obvious effort to reign himself in. “My apologies, it’s just… There are many other, more paramount things to focus your attention on, sir.”

“It is still _my_ attention, Hamilton,” the General reminded him sternly. “I shall do with it as I like. Especially since it seems to be the only thing I still have left to give.”

The younger man struggled with himself, glancing at the letter, then at his outstretched hand and reluctantly relinquished the papers.

Washington had no idea what to expect from the content of the letter. Hamilton’s unwillingness had been odd, but his young aide had several quirks that could not be explained.

Nothing however, could have warned him against the words his eyes skimmed over now.

_Dear Sir…it has come to my attention…Nevis…your enlistment in the company of 1754…affair…Rachel…son named Alexander…born January 1755…after the mother’s death…son….son…son_

It was written in a much simpler style than the usual letters he received, the writer probably not educated properly. And yet the simple words made very little sense to Washington.

Hamilton was fidgeting next to him, likely itching to grab the papers again.

“My deepest apologies your Excellency. I did not mean for you to ever see this…preposterous accusation. It is garbage of course. Your opposition seeks to destroy you by dirtying your name however they can. This is just their latest ploy.”

“I thought you were born in 1757,” Washington said, because that was somehow the only thing he could currently think of.

“I might have…lied about… The point is,” Hamilton spluttered, “The best thing we can do is ignore it, unless you have changed your stance on dueling?”

“Absolutely not.”

“But sir-!”

“No, Hamilton.”

“We can’t let it stand!” Hamilton exclaimed fervently. “If I find out who wrote this..! You must allow me to duel, sir! How dare they tied my dishonor to your name. I can’t believe someone would stoop so low as to even _insinuate_ …”

My dishonor.

What a strange phrase to describe a circumstance so wholly out of his control. As if it was in any way Hamilton’s fault he had to carry that burden.

“The letter is dated 1768…”

“Which doesn’t even make any sense,” Hamilton said. He had begun pacing the tent in agitation, while Washington still stood rooted to the spot. “That was almost a decade ago!”

“It could have gotten lost,” Washington mused. “Only having found its way now that everyone knows my name and where to find me.”

He did not quite see why Hamilton would react so strongly to the letter. It was not the first time that someone had hinted at a more familiar connection between him and his aide, bitter at his clear preference.

And even those whispered rumors were far from the worst things said behind his back. The accusation was laughable to him. As if having the hardest working member of his army as his son would hurt him.

“It’s a fraud obviously. I can’t believe they would imply you had a-a…a bastard. To even suggest you had a dishonorable affair is-…”

“I did,” Washington said calmly, making his aide stop so abruptly he almost tripped over his own feet.

“Well I didn’t think of it as particularly dishonorable,” Washington continued, allowing a small smile of reminiscence. “But I was younger and reckless. She was an outstanding woman, very clever, very…bold. Hard to say no. I proposed to her and she was gone the next morning. Not one to be tied down, I suppose.”

He looked up to see Hamilton staring at him speechless, his face ashen.

“Ah,” the general chuckled. “Do my past transgressions shock you so much, colonel?”

“N-no that isn’t…I’m sure you had…only the most honorable intentions…” Hamilton stammered.

He looked ready to faint. His eloquence was strangely lacking this evening and Washington began to worry he might take sick again.

“Am I to understand that you really did go to Nevis in 1754?” Hamilton asked feebly.

“Oh yes, that fact is true. I am however very surprised that they knew the woman’s name.”

“W-What?”

“Rachel Faucette,” Washington explained, pointing at the letter. “The woman it claims to be also your mother.”

He expected Hamilton to finally relax, or maybe beg him again to duel whoever wrote the letter. But Hamilton remained silent and alarm bells went off in Washington’s head. He tried to make a list in his mind of all the things he knew about Hamilton and came up worryingly blank.

“Hamilton?” He prodded, trying to catch the younger man’s eyes but Hamilton fiercely evaded contact.

A dreadful suspicion began to bloom in Washington’s head. “Hamilton, what was your mother’s name?”

Hamilton gulped, shifting restlessly under his intense focus.

“Rachel Faucette,” he finally whispered reluctantly. Then he hastily added. “But she was hardly a woman who could seduce as great a man as you, sir. A coincidence, that is all.”

“Are you from Nevis?” Washington continued, not hearing his desperate reassurance.

His aide made a pained face. “Well, I was raised in St. Croix but, ah, born in Nevis, yes sir.”

“And born in January 1755?” he inquired further, heart hammering in his chest.

Hamilton bit his lip, clenched his fists. Unclenched them. “…Yes.”

There was a beat of silence as Washington absorbed this information. So far everything the letter claimed had turned out to be true. It was supposed to be a hoax. Surely. The alternative was…unthinkable.

“Hamilton, who is your father?” he asked tonelessly.

“You are overstepping your boundaries, sir,” Hamilton hissed.

“I have a letter in my hand that claims you’re my _son,_ I think I deserve to know,” Washington yelled, suppressing a wince at his own loud voice. He rarely raised it.

“I took the name of the man my mother had my brother with,” Hamilton answered stubbornly.

“That is not an answer.”

The colonel’s whole posture was absolutely rigid. “It’s not something one talks about in polite society.”

“For god’s sake Hamilton,” Washington exhaled exasperated. “I’ve known for long that you are illegitimate. The rumors are hardly subtle.”

He regretted the words instantly, as the young man flinched visibly. Almost trembling now, Hamilton stood before him silently, which was never a good sign in his case.

Washington sighed, willing his voice to turn gentle. “You think I care, s- Hamilton?”

“I shall resign by tomorrow,” was the colonel’s clipped response.

“ _Hamilton_!” Washington bellowed, which would have sent any other man fleeing. But Hamilton, bless his stalwart mind, met the outburst with his own formidable temper.

“I can’t allow them to use me to taint your name!”

“You would hardly be _taint_.”

Hamilton didn’t seem to hear his injection, only working himself further up in his frustration. “How dare they spread outrageous lies about their general. As if I… As if someone like me could be…”

He was gesticulating helplessly and had resumed his agitated pacing, something Washington usually disapproved of as Hamilton’s restless disposition only put him on edge, but right now he was relieved that the man had broken his tense posture.

“You seem so sure that this is fake,” Washington said mildly.

“Of course I’m sure! This is exactly what they wanted, us wasting time on such a filthy thing!” Hamilton turned back around to him and Washington noted relieved that his fiery eyes were once again unafraid to meet his. “You must not dwell on it your Excellency!”

“Hamilton you just confirmed that both the year and your mother’s name add up and that your father is… unknown to you.”

The colonel shook his head vigorously. “There could have been many Rachels-“

“Hamilton,” Washington sighed softly.

Hamilton stiffened, but this time his expression was resolute.

“I do not like to speak ill of my…parents… but you should know that my mother was mostly considered to be a…ah…” Hamilton hesitated but eventually steeled himself. “A lose woman, sir.”

Washington’s eyebrows rose skeptically. “I was there for 3 months. She did not see anyone else. Did you think I proposed to a stranger?”

“She must have deceived you, and lain with others.”

Washington growled, not appreciating the cynical tone of his subordinate. “I will not have you speak of your mother like that.”

Hamilton took the rebuke in stride. “Sir, I am not dishonoring her. She was a survivor and the world abandoned her. She did what it took. I am merely sorry a good man such as yourself had to be one of her victims.”

Washington scoffed silently at the description. Oh he had been young and besotted, but certainly no victim. Rachel’s somewhat dangerous intelligence had been part of what charmed him.

Hamilton cleared his throat awkwardly. “I heard certain rumors about your…affliction.”

Washington glared warningly “Now _you’re_ insulting me.”

But Hamilton charged on. “It is a perfectly natural condition.”

“Son-“

“I’m not your son!” Hamilton cried, sounding close to hysteric.

They stared at each other, Hamilton’s usual declaration ringing in their ears, both of them aware that it was, and had always been, untrue.

“If you must know, seeing as we share intimate details,” Washington eventually continued slowly, “I have never tried with Martha.”

Hamilton looked truly perplexed. “So you never..?”

“Must I spell it out for you?”

“N-no sir,” Hamilton replied sheepishly.

“As you know Martha has three children,” Washington explained. “ _My_ children. I don’t need any others.”

“Oh.” Hamilton made softly, eyes darting away again. “Of course. I understand completely.” He cleared his throat brusquely. “We can just put it behind us and...” He choked on his words and the sound broke Washington’s heart. “We best not speak of it again.”

Washington stared down at him, taking in Hamilton’s stance, so carefully arranged to hide his youth and insecurities. And yet now that Hamilton once again evaded his eyes, his dejection was painfully obvious.

“I did not mean to imply that I don’t want _you_.”

Hamilton’s tanned face flushed with embarrassment, though he desperately tried to keep his expression blank. “It is just as you said, sir. You do not need another and I… That is, I am an adult.”

“Of course, Colonel,” Washington assured him, careful to use his rank in the hopes of dispelling Hamilton’s ever-present fear that he had lost his respect.

Hamilton’s composure somewhat returned to him. “So we shall not waste any more time on this and move on.”

“You suggest to simply ignore it?”

“They are coincidences nothing more,” Hamilton insisted, but the words sounded hollow to both of them.

They were both well aware that rumors were much more effective if they were left to grow and fester in people’s minds. Whispers that weren’t loud enough to locate but too persistent to be eradicated. Sending a private letter to Washington would not achieve the intended blow to his reputation.

“I would want to acknowledge you.”

The words were out before Washington realized he was going to say them.

They were the truth no doubt, but he immediately cursed himself for being so straightforward. Hamilton was nothing if not skittish when it came to familial matters. He’d had a problem with Washington’s affectionate gestures even before this newest turn of events. He feared that declaring such a thing would send the young man running.

For a moment Hamilton couldn’t seem to decide how to react.

So great was the range of emotions mingling on his face that Washington had no chance to decipher them all. Though he was sure that everything from disbelief and happiness to outright rage flickered across it.

“You can’t,” Hamilton finally pressed out. “Based on a vague hunch!”

“It is more than a hunch. Even if this letter was merely sent to diminish me, you cannot deny the facts we now learnt.”

“You have a wife! A family! A reputation!”

“You make it sound as if any of these things would be destroyed by your mere presence.”

“Of course it would, I always…” Hamilton broke off hastily and made a visible effort to calm himself. “The future of this nation depends on you, your Excellency.”

The honorary title had never sounded more wrong to Washington’s ears.

“You’re asking me,” he began slowly, “to forsake a son because some people might not like my past? This is not the nation I am fighting for.”

“Well maybe I do not want it!”

So there was the truth of it, Washington thought sadly.

He couldn’t have known that Rachel was pregnant, couldn’t have known he had abandoned _his son_ in the worst possible circumstances. Most people would claim he could not be blamed and maybe they were right. But he knew about it now.

Accepting the consequences and taking on the responsibilities were the only options to calm Washington’s mind.

He realized now that that was incredibly selfish. This was not about him. This was about a young, promising man who had carved out his own path in life and had every right to refuse him.

“Would it be so bad?”

Hamilton clenched his fists until his whole arms trembled. “The worst.”

“Ah,” Washington made, having thought himself prepared for the rejection but now realizing that decision had not yet reached his traitorous heart.

“Everything I worked for… my reputation, new-born and feeble as it is-“

“There is nothing feeble about that,” Washington couldn’t help but chuckle. “They call you _lion_.”

“I am my own man,” Hamilton said fiercely. “I cannot, I _will not,_ be seen as your mistake.”

“Alexander, if I’m your father you will be my biggest achievement yet.”

The statement rang impossibly loud in the silence that followed. The use of his given name even louder.

They looked nothing like each other.

Hamilton was slight, smaller than most men, whereas Washington towered over everyone. His facial features were much more delicate and he was all brimming energy where Washington was deliberate calmness.

But his personality… How had Washington not seen it before? Had he not wondered, constantly, why this particular aide proved to be so essential and yet so frustrating to work with at times? Had he not mused about the fact that they seemed to understand each other instinctively, yet clash at every turn?

The stubborn pride, the endurance. Assuming command came easy to both of them, but closer relations started awkward, the concept of letting people in foreign. They were oh so similar in their tempers, disguised only by the difference in their age.

 _He is mine._ Washington was certain of it.

The poor thing was shaking in front of him. Hamilton was only barely keeping himself together, a state which normally only severe exhaustion or terrible weather could render him in.

Washington felt an overpowering urge to protect him. It took all of his willpower to not reach out. Hamilton would hate him for it.

The young man had been left alone much too early and much too long. Quite possibly, he did not know anymore how to belong. Did not know belonging meant peace and freedom, not shackles.

If Hamilton refused him outright, if he was set on never mentioning the subject again… Well, the knowledge of it would still remain. And whether Hamilton accepted it or not, in some way he would need to cope with it.

Did he have anyone to talk to? If there was one common consensus about Hamilton it was that he was very reticent. Did he have anyone he trusted enough to confide in? His fellow aides perhaps?

It was clear he would not talk to Washington. Maybe the general could set Lafayette on the task. Washington himself had always needed someone to actively make him talk, even when he assumed he didn’t want to. Lafayette was good at gaining trust and coaxing secrets out of people. And Washington was certain of his discretion.

Even so, there was a lingering pain in Washington’s chest at the thought of staying away from Hamilton forever. He wondered if his aide - his son - felt anything like it at all, or if the decision would only bring him relief.

“Sir?” Hamilton prodded hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Washington realized he had been staring the poor man down for a considerable time and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I was only thinking… We are very similar.”

“You are setting the standards far too high for someone like me to reach, your Excellency.” His lips were trembling and he was blinking rapidly, but Washington could not make out any tears.

How strange that this man should see unobtainable goals when he had already surpassed each one of them at such a tender age.

He would do right by him from now on. He had to. For both of their sakes.

“Ah but Hamilton,” Washington sighed. “I have been trying to tell you how proud I am since we first met. You chose not to listen every time.”

Hamilton frowned angrily. “There’s no need to spare my feelings, sir. I am not even adequate enough for a command.”

“I’m trying to keep you alive.”

“So I can live with the shame of hiding behind a desk for the rest of my life?”

“So you can help me build a future,” Washington corrected. “Our future, if you’d permit me.”

Hamilton’s eyes slowly rose back up. There was exhaustion there. Insecurity. Mistrust. Longing.

Washington hardly dared to hope.

“I do not know what it means to have a father,” Hamilton spoke hoarsely. “I-I know his role in fostering and educating a child. But I-… Sir, I am not-“

“I know,” Washington assured him again. “I have missed much. But if you could just allow me to share some of your time… I am not trying to mold you, Hamilton. For that it is both too late and, frankly, it’s unnecessary considering how you turned out.”

“Thank you, sir.” He sounded so quiet. Shy. Words that Washington would have never associated with Hamilton before.

Did Hamilton realize he was already letting his guard down? Was his loud, obnoxious temper only a façade? Washington vowed to find out. Everything.

“And perhaps you are already more familiar with having a father than you think, “Washington mused, earning a confused look from Hamilton. “You keep rejecting being called son.”

Hamilton nodded tightly.

“And yet I kept calling you son. I believe that is what it means to have a father.”

Hamilton’s brow furrowed, obviously not following.

Washington allowed himself a small smile. “Understand that no matter what you hurl at me, I will remain by your side.”

Hamilton swallowed, fidgeted with his sleeves. It was clear he would rather take on a whole British battalion alone than have this conversation.

“We are strangers, sir,” Hamilton murmured.

“We don’t have to be.”

Hamilton opened his mouth, closed it. Remained silent with a slightly panicked look in his eyes. Washington wondered if he had ever seen his aide so truly speechless as now.

Neither of them knew where to go from there. The war wouldn’t stop just for them to sort out their situation. The night didn’t suddenly provide them with more sleep just so they could continue their conversation. They were both exhausted and in dire need of rest.

Washington cleared his throat. “It feels wrong to dismiss you as usual after all that but-“

“Please do,” Hamilton said hastily, a desperate look on his face.

Washington fought the urge to chuckle. The young man had always loved fixed protocols and decorum.

“Dismissed, Colonel,” Washington said softly and watched Hamilton practically flee into the night.

Washington began to fix himself a drink for he had given up on sleep despite his fatigue. Now then. How to explain to his wife that the cat she adopted was inadvertently named after his lost son?

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I only seem to write in oneshots for the Hamilton fandom...huh, weird.  
>  ~~I just wanted them to have a heartfelt conversation okay~~  
>  Leave a comment or come talk to me on [tumblr](http://terrific-lunacy.tumblr.com/) :)


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